


Wagging Tongues

by VulpusTumultum



Series: The Tevinter's Templar [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet, Blowjobs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, POV shifts, Slow Build, based on in-game dialogue, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mother Giselle's meddling is getting results- though unless she's been cleverly applying reverse psychology, the results are not what she wanted.</p><p>Takes place after Ch 4 of "Lyrium Promises"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rumor-Mongering

Lyos had woken up, and made it back to his room to sleep some more, before things became too lively around Skyhold. It wasn't until late in the day that he remembered the books he'd left in the library- though he frequently found himself remembering other little things about the last night's talk with Dorian, and while at least some of the dreams he had in his exhausted sleep were far nicer than the recent string of nightmares, they still left his bedsheets a tangled mess.

The first words he heard when he pushed the library's doors open, therefore, instantly wired their way into the part of his brain that came up with little fantasies about Dorian on a regular basis, and his cheeks suddenly felt hot.

“You'd be  _amazed_ at the credit my tongue gets me, Revered Mother.”

Though the flush became one colored from irritation as he took in the scene- some people pretending to ignore it, others watching with wide eyes as Mother Giselle tried cornering Dorian in his lair.

Gritting his teeth, Lyos strode over- not between them as a conciliator, however, but instead standing firmly beside the mage, making it clear exactly who he intended to side with.

“ _Now what, Giselle_ ?”

She almost took a step back, but regained her composure, despite his rudeness, and tried to lower the tensions- but her expression was bleakly disapproving no matter how she couched her words to seem respectful.

“Inquisitor, I understand that you trust this man, but his behavior- the rumors he causes about you are a danger to the Inquisition, the common people-”

“What rumors,  _exactly_ do you ever even mean?”

She looked taken aback, “Your Worship, I cannot bring myself to repeat them to you-”

“Just not to me? Repeat them for others, do you?”

Merely 'aback' became far more offended, and perhaps even wounded, though Lyos wasn't in any mood to care.

“Mother Giselle, have you ever tried  _countering_ these rumors when they make it to your ear?” he asked, “That Dorian is not-”

“I do not  _know_ what he is, or is not, but your point is taken. My apologies.”

Lyos watched her retreat, still angry, “Doesn't occur to her to just ask, or actually listen when I've tried to tell her, I suppose.”

“Oh what would be the point in asking, she cannot trust anything a Tevinter mage says in answer, and you may just be too far under my influence.” Dorian chuckled. “She means well- when it comes to you, at least.”

“Does not help. _Still_ infuriating,” though the fury was fading to something more like irritation.

“The existence of rumors bothers you?”

“Rumors? I have to live with them, they are always around. What bothers me is the way she clearly feels any rumors that align with her own expectations of the world must be true- and that she should then wage a little personal crusade against  _you_ . Some anonymous whisper reaches her that you're going to enslave us all for the Venatori and she wants me to ship you back to Tevinter.”

“Are those still also in fashion? I had thought most of the current rumors had simmered down to mere assumptions we are intimate and shameful descriptions of what we get up to.”

“Well I certainly can't be bothered by that sort of rumor. Far more acceptable than treachery.” Lyos knew they were still watched, but felt surprisingly comfortable letting things continue, mood still too hot and twitchy to care-  _besides_ ..  _let them talk, I'd just as soon some of what's said be true._

“I suppose it depends on what manner of shameful they manage. Shamefully unimaginative or dull would hardly be acceptable, would it?” Dorian strolled past the warrior, going further into the actual alcove, and Lyos followed him, trying to come up with a fitting response to that one.

“I- no that would hardly be right. Do you think they might need demonstrations to help them along the right track?”

Dorian chuckled, and circled Lyos, moving in swiftly past what would be considered polite personal boundaries, and the elf's eyes widened slightly- but he kept his own smile, straightening and looking up at the taller man.

“And wouldn't that set Giselle clucking her way into absolute despair?”

“As if there needed to be another good reason for it-”

Dorian's hand caught him, cradling his head in for a kiss- possibly meant to just be a teasing one, but Lyos couldn't accept that- not such a slow, lazy, meeting of lips, not when he was still wound up from the confrontation- not when he'd been wanting a chance at Dorian's mouth for  _far_ too long. Rumors or watchers be damned, he was going to take it while it was offered.


	2. The Inquisitor Did It, In the Library, With Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is plagued by sensible, respectable, responsible thoughts- even as he gets both more than he bargained for and less than he wants.
> 
> Chapter contains male masturbation.
> 
> (Also, sorry not sorry about the chapter title. I could not resist.)

Dorian made a surprised, yet satisfied noise as a strong hand pulled him closer in mirror of the way he'd brought the Inquisitor in. Mirrored, but also more insistent, a thumb callused from holding weapons rubbing along his cheek and jaw, his teasing kiss returned far more hotly than he'd expected.

And then he was shoved against a bookcase, feeling the edges of shelf and bindings of books digging into his back- and faintly wondered what he'd teased himself into, when he managed to wonder anything. The Inquisitor's tongue was hot against his, and his own fingers tangled into pale hair and dug at the shoulder of the elf's tunic, while his knees went weak.

He had half expected frustrating-yet-adorable shy retreat after a return of affection, brief in an attempt to keep it private or secret- instead what he was getting was what rapidly felt like a breathless eternity as the Inquisitor's kiss plundered his mouth and groaned, the sound coming from deep in his throat. The smell of the lyrium was so close, and so sharp, that now Dorian could taste it, like a trace of potion on his tongue, and he wanted to wrap his legs around that waist and...

Sod it all, was he going to have to try and be the responsible one so that things didn't get too out of hand? Because he certainly didn't  _want_ to be. But could he really let things keep going until they did reach an honest to Maker scandal level?

 

 _Vishante Kaffas_ _the old hen does have a point to her worries and I know it. He knows it, he's just..ignoring that right now._

_Must remember to encourage his being angry at her in the future._

 

The knowledge that this could become damaging was like a splash of cold water- although not enough to completely erase his urges, he could feel the start of an erection all too plainly.

Dorian broke off the kiss, gasping for breath, and met the stare of the Inquisitor- feeling a resurgence of the desire he was  _trying_ to temporarily suppress at the expression on the other man's face. If Lyos didn't blink soon to break that intensity there was no way Dorian was going to be able to walk out of the library any time soon, other than in a rather embarrassing crouch- and he  _really_ wanted to walk out of the library, if only to meet again somewhere else, with actual privacy. Quickly.

And yet, even though he knew it was for the best, he swore when there was a call for the Inquisitor from somewhere outside of the alcove- but if Cullen was looking for Lyos  _here_ it was likely important. And he'd be directed to them, undoubtedly. Probably even quickly.

The Herald of Andraste let out a string of shocking blasphemies, considering his position, but started to release the grip he'd had, and blinked as if to clear his head, drawing back from the mage quickly and adjusting his tunic.

Dorian, meanwhile, moved to sink into his chair, grabbing a book and adjusting his own clothing- just in time for Cullen to appear in the archway, paperwork in hand, far too distracted by whatever duty he was about to drag Lyos off for to notice the Inquisitor's still rather sour expression, or the irritated roll of his shoulders as he nodded a greeting.

“Of course, Commander, I was... just on my way, I hadn't forgotten,.”

Dorian couldn't hold back the chuckle at that obvious lie, and before following Cullen away, the Inquisitor paused, and his dark eyes went back over the mage, meeting his gaze first, and then sweeping down along his body.

 

_Is- did he just undress me with his eyes?_

_His eyes- how does he have such fetching eyes, it is most unfair._

_Everything about him is unfair, he is **dreadful**. And I absolutely need to have him._

 

After a few moments, Dorian rose out of his chair, and casually made his way to his sleeping quarters, throwing himself onto the edge of his comfortable bed, and jerking at clothing fastenings so he could get a grip on himself in a more literal and pleasing way- though it was not going to be nearly enough.

The scented oil he kept in the room was a very poor substitute for the lightning-strike scent of lyrium from the Inquisitor's skin.

The bed was a poor substitute for being shoved up against a book case.

_He closed his eyes though and could remember the sensation- if Lyos had been a little more forceful, the edge of that shelf might have even managed to bruise his shoulder blade. Library smelling of old leather, papers, and unfortunately, faintly of crows- but also yes, the mix of strong soap, sweat, and lyrium-_

Dorian groaned and settled back, squeezing and stroking himself off.

_The way he rolls his shoulders and his tunic rides up, showing skin- does the man do it on **purpose**? Dark grey eyes that seem almost black when he's excited, his soft voice, more quiet than deep with a slightly odd accent on some words, stressing the wrong syllables for what is common here. The moan he made while he kissed me- crushing his mouth to mine, almost bruising my lips as well, careless man._

He gasped and curled, thumbing the head of his prick, glistening with precum.

_Soft hair, long enough to really get between fingers, long enough to tug and to pull without it also getting in the way of his eyes, does he bother brushing or combing it, the way it spikes and fluffs out like he just got off the pillow except it always looks impossibly attractive too._

_Remembering skin I haven't touched or even seen often enough- just stolen glimpses from camps as the man casually pulled on shirt and then armor in early morning light, or washed up at a stream. Muscular shoulders and arms, narrowing waist, but still a body used to heavy armor. Wanting to climb him, ride him, be pinned down- almost since the beginning and the longing getting worse, as the insufferable man flirted and then backed down or seemed completely oblivious in turns._

_Yes, wanting those fingers on his skin, the feel of sword calluses, the strong grip-_

Dorian cried out, and his ass rocked on the bed, as he found the release he'd needed, fingers sticky, and cum on clothing and sheets as well- he took a ragged breath and relaxed, though tension ran through him again as he remembered Adamant, and that sharp stab of regret when he'd wondered if-  _no, enough. I want him, and that is enough to think of- more than enough._

“This simply can  _not_ be tolerated any longer,” he announced to his empty room, before rising to clean himself up, select a book to read while waiting, and then quietly head for the Inquisitor's quarters, the picture of discretion.


	3. Whispers, Shouts, and Silent Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian finds he may have underestimated the Inquisitor- as well as his own feelings, though at least he can find distraction away from the latter, thanks to the former's boldness when truly alone with the mage.

The Inquisitor apparently wanted to be _very bad indeed._

Now they were continuing what had started in the library- though Dorian was the one to first trap Lyos against furniture, and his opening kiss could have melted metal- the warrior didn't have a chance against it, even if he had  _wanted_ one. Dorian chuckled as the kiss ended and the Inquisitor began to graze down the side of his neck, though the laughter was laced with a groan..

“What's amusing?” fingers tugging at clothing, finding fastenings, jerking them open, a Dalish curse muttered, “And do you wear clothing with so many buckles out of sadism?”

“Amused that you seem so much taller when being the mighty Inquisitor at a distance,” he gasped as the elf actually  _bit_ him over that, “and you simply have no appreciation for style-” Dorian's hands were under the elf's tunic, fingers digging down along his sides, making muscles shudder in response “As I have often... told you- this tunic is terrible. Hardly a loss if I simply tore it off you.”

Their mutal fever sharpened, and while fabric and fastenings survived intact, but only barely- they rather unsteadily made their way the large bed, everything they'd shed leaving a trail behind them.

Dorian muttered endearments and filthy suggestions, hearing his name on that tongue made Lyos perfectly willing to follow them for the most part. The Inquisitor didn't speak quite so much, but when he did- the mage wanted to find ways to make him say more, passion made his voice huskier, and gave some words possessive tones that might prove somewhat terrifying if thought about too long. In the moment, they just added to the desire.

They rutted against each other, and Dorian enjoyed twisting fingers into Lyos' hair, making him hiss and arch, and kiss harder- “Fuck, fine- you want an excuse to do that sort of thing?” the elf growled, and all but flung himself downwards after another hard pull had ended, and the human's hands had released his locks to move elsewhere. “Or maybe this will teach you to be a little more careful-”

_And to think I once thought.. he was some manner of blushing virgin or nearly so- instead he is an absolute beast and I am going to have to light candles in prayers of thanks for that._

Dorian tried to scramble back so that he could lean against the headboard and make sitting up easier, but Lyos was having none of that, pulling him back down and trapping his hips with powerful hands- “Vishante kaffas! If you like it, don't make it  _difficult_ -” though the mage still did raise himself, trembling, and gladly dug his fingers back into silvery hair even without getting to lean against support.

Lyos didn't say anything, his mouth busy. His fingers stroked Dorian's thighs as he sucked on the head of his cock, and then one hand moved to cup balls and rub, both settling into quieter passion for a time, nothing but the sounds of skin against sheets or other skin, sucking, and their wordless groans. The mage fell back finally, and fingers twisted into sheets instead of hair as the elf changed position slightly, bracing himself up to change the angle and suck more of the man's throbbing prick in, tongue rolling against its length. His hand moved, sliding under Dorian's ass, fingers rubbing along the cleft, and a louder groan escaped the Tevinter.

“A... Lyos... if you keep that up- I am going to come-” the man started to raise back up- because if the elf intended to make him do so- he wanted to watch, and get fingers into hair again, but he wasn't disappointed when instead the mouth left him and the other rose up to favor him with a smile- because as much as he was aching with the need for release he  _hadn't had enough yet_ -

“Mm. Not yet you aren't.”

 

_Alwys so nice when one's lover agrees_...

 

Lyos wound his way up Dorian's body, not to kiss his mouth, but instead going for an ear, kissing and licking along the rounded curve of it while their bodies pressed together belly to belly, but without grinding, giving some cooling time for the mage- though not too cooling, not with a hot mouth on sensitive cartilage.

“You  _did_ invite me to be bad, and who knows when I'll get the invitation again?” the words whispered into the man's ear, making him arch from both the sensation given by Lyos' hot breath and the promise of the question itself, the hint that already the Inquisitor wanted more than one night-

 

_Hope, but don't hope too hard, enjoy it now while it is right here_ .  _Never think about_ _'next time'._

 

“Mmph, well, if you manage to be naughty enough- it could be sooner than you think,” Dorian gasped as teeth dug at his ear gently, then a little harder, “See, already you moved the date up further by a day-”

Fingers closed around their cocks and they shifted to roll hips together, and kiss, tongues meeting, lips feeling sweetly crushed. The Inquisitor's breath got harsher again as Dorian now let his smooth hands concentrate fully on the elf's member, squeezing and thumbing,

“What..would it do to the schedule if I flipped you over and fucked you thoroughly?” Lyos managed to sound almost conversational, other than his heavy breathing.

“A week up at least, though you have given me a warning, which loses points that you will have to work to make-”

 The warrior rose, and grabbed Dorian, not so much rolling him as picking him up and then dropping him back down onto his stomach and pinning him there, and the mage bucked against him enough to tease- Lyos muttered an oath, and rose with a hard swat at one of Dorian's buttocks, making him yelp in pleased surprise.

“Don't. Move.”

Dorian did move, of course, rising up and twisting so he could better watch the naked elf get to the edge of the bed and jerk open the small drawer of a small table with enough force that it came out of its socket entirely- and there was no way to not laugh as Lyos cursed again.

“Well, points for enthusiasm, Inquisitor-”

“Your fault for being so unexpected,”still aroused, irritated, amused- possibly embarrassed, but Lyos grabbed the jar he'd been going for out of the homeless drawer, and let it and everything else in it drop, as he hauled Dorian into another kiss that stopped the last of the chuckling, although both were still smiling as the jar was opened and the slick oil accessed, spilling over their fingers, some getting directly onto their bellies, cocks and thighs before the jar got shoved onto the table and out of the way, contents denuded..

“Should I tell you that I could have just used a minor spell-”

Lyos kissed him again, this time catching Dorian's lower lip between his teeth for a tug as it ended, and Dorian just couldn't resist asking, after a gasp, “Are you suggesting I should stop talk-”

Another kiss cut him off, though Lyos was chuckling- for a moment, something about the easy joy as well as pleasure between them made something tighten in Dorian's chest- _this can't last-_ but he drove that thought away, _what matters is that it is good_ _ **now**_ _._

If he'd faltered, Lyos hadn't noticed, and was eager- the feeling of slippery fingertips rubbing and tugging at the edges of his asshole as they still pressed against each other, oiled cocks shuddering, ensured he didn't falter long-.and then he was on his stomach again, arched up and grabbing the sheets, the elf still teasing his ass with fingers- and just teasing, until Dorian swore at him to get on with it.

Fingers slid into the human, rubbing the rim, stretching, making him squirm- and then  _Maker_ he felt Lyos' mouth on the small of his back, down, a hot tongue curling into him.

“ _If you do not take me completely right this minute-”_ he couldn't even begin to think of a threat dire enough, breathless.

The warrior's hands grabbed his hips and he arched eagerly, knees spread, grabbing for the wooden headboard as the thrust finally began, Lyos pushing, forcing Dorian even more towards the headboard so he could brace himself as well, one arm tight around the mage, fingers digging into him just below the ribs.

Another feverish, frantic period with no talk, no words- just the shudder and creak, the slap of bodies meeting, animal sounds of need and pleasure- Lyos thrusting hard and Dorian rocking into it. The elf's mouth on his back, on his shoulders, the callused fingers back around his prick, and the rest of Lyos' body hot at his back when thrusting home and sometimes staying in him for a time. Both of them squirming for better position, better ways to brace themselves, and finally thrusts hitting the mage perfectly.

“Lyos-  _Amatus_ \--” between the strokes against his pleasure center and the fingers wrapping and stroking him, Dorian was soon finished, he clenched and trembled, his ejaculate on the bedding, on Lyos' hand- and the other man groaned his name in return, still taking him, breathing harsh and loud, before gasping and pulling free, though the mage felt the quiver of his orgasm starting- and then felt the splash of sticky heat on his ass and back, running down a thigh.

The elf dropped back, but pulled Dorian with him as he fell, and they lay curled against each other, kissing, carressing with gentler hands as their breathing evened out and the euphoria slowly faded to a more manageable level.

Dorian felt the tightness in his chest again, the Inquisitor- the Herald of Andraste, tangled up against him and smiling-  _What can I be to him? Will things return to as they were before in the morning, will he want me after?_

 

_I am becoming a fool. No, have been one- but tonight was good._

 

Dorian closed his eyes for a few moments of rest, Lyos warm beside him.

 

_Tonight is still good- it is not morning yet._


	4. Not In Tevinter Any More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian gets a little culture shock when Lyos makes it plain he doesn't intend them to be a Tevinter-ish dalliance.
> 
> _Alternate "Sleep Deprived Fangirl/Author" Summary _: Tell your inner voice to shut up Dorian, y'all are OTP, get back to kissing.__

Dorian woke first- a developed instinct when in a room other than his own, all the better to slip away as needed, but it still was not so late into the night (or early into the morning) that he felt a need to escape just yet, rising to stare out the doors, past the balcony and to the clear night sky, with mountain snow still gleaming on nearby peaks.

Beautiful, yet leaving him missing a view of rooftops, of a city's lights that dimmed the stars- though Skyhold always had some awake- patrolling battlements, tending to the various maintenance chores that were better done when others were not in the way- at night it could feel suffocatingly silent and dull.  _It might get more suffocating. And much much more dull._

Behind him, he heard the Inquisitor stir, and he turned, watching the elf sit up and stretch, not  _attempting_ to look positively ravishing, but unfairly managing it.

“Dorian? Is..something wrong, you seem...distracted.”

_Something might be. Avoid for later or face it now?_

Somehow, he managed to chuckle lightly, “We just had sex, sex is distracting.”

Lyos laughed softly, and swung his legs off the bed and rose to start towards Dorian, but the mage instead went to him, letting himself be pulled back into those warm and muscular arms.

“So it is...did I do well enough at behaving badly to be fit into your busy schedule again?”

Dorian stopped breathing for a moment-  _so he wants me again... but- face it now, find out, before this goes farther. Before some blighted misunderstanding._ He pulled away from the other man's arms, causing the Inquisitor to tense, wondering, no doubt, if he'd done or said something wrong.

“We should..talk first, before an answer to that,” voice light, as if the outcome will be of no terribly great importance. In the face of the Inquisitor's gaze though, words faltered somewhat, and came out faster than he intended. “About us. And what you desire this relationship to be- do you...think this is serious?”  _Maker help me I want it to be- if he does not-_

Dorian tried to ignore the knotting in his chest as Lyos still just watched him, “How often can we meet without notice- as people notice, they  _will_ accuse me of swaying you- ”

“You think it will not be worth the rumors after all, if only a dalliance?” the elf moved in, uncomfortably close, and met Dorian's eyes, “Blight take rumors- I care more about what you want. Expect. Do  _you_ want this to be the end of it?”

“I- “  _blighted, cursed, damnable, impossible man, I do not want to be the one to say it, stop staring at me-_ “I am...becoming serious about this. More than I expected. Back home,” he felt the knot in his chest tighten further almost stealing his breath, “Back home- it is always a dalliance, to end at any time, even without a farewell, whenever it becomes dull or comes close to scandal. But now- here- if this is to end, this is the time for it to be ended, before creating more complications.” He couldn't keep facing that stare, his own gaze going back to the window by the time his words wound down.

The Inquisitor sighed, and the mage felt himself bracing for bad news, “Dorian- I, I do not want this to end in any forseeable future. I have been serious about you for quite some time. Also,  _blight take any rumors_ . Their existence is not going to interfere with my personal life. They can make me into some manner of celibate saint  _after_ I've been dead a few years if it's so important to them,” he growled his irritation, and grabbed Dorian, pulling him into a tight hold.

_He is being foolish._

But the-  _villainous, soul-stealing, what else will I be called-_ mage from Tevinter's knots of tension loosened, and he wrapped his own arms around the elf, looking down at him, and then leaning in to kiss, softly, but warm as everything that had frozen up within him continued to thaw.  _They don't even think about how perhaps the soul stealing happened the other way around, they underestimate their Herald._

“Well, Amatus, with that out of the way... I suspect my schedule is open tomorrow- oh look, it  _is_ tomorrow already, where _does_ the time go?”

And Lyos laughed in relief, losing his own remaining tension, and dragged Dorian back to the rumpled bed, murmuring into his ear, “Good, because I would like to find out about that credit you mentioned getting for your tongue-”


	5. Tongues Hard At Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There really isn't much to do on a peaceful day where no crisis are happening, so random Skyholders gossip about Lyos and Dorian, even as the lovers put their own tongues to far more satisfying use.

> _It's not right to talk about the Herald like that- he's the **Herald** \- what are you even thinking?_

How had they even wound up like this? Oh- yes, the Inquisitor had had some free time, and had slipped into the library and invited him to 'talk' privately.

> _The Dalish though- who knows what heathens like them get up to in the wilds._

He'd told Dorian about that hidden side door that led directly up from the war room's hallway- Leliana hadn't said anything when she'd told him about it, but he rather suspected she  _knew_ what use it would be put to.

> _Would blood magic even work on the Herald? I mean, wouldn't his mark and the power protect him from a mage trying to enthrall him?_

He wasn't sure if the sneaking about added to the fun or got on his nerves, but so long as it meant he could have his Amatus... well, he could try and be discrete. So much had been changing for him- in the end, the fact this was scandalous was almost comforting.

> _Oh anyone with eyes can see he's been with the Iron Bull- they're both warriors, enjoying the heat of battle, and just look at how closely they stand together- the Inquisitor is always dropping by to visit the Iron Bull and his Chargers at the tavern._

He wondered sometimes, if he'd fallen for anyone else, would they have to go to these lengths of pretending- was it even necessary, truly necessary now? Dorian seemed to think so, and it was hardly something he felt he could just go around asking opinions about, although if their other travelling companions hadn't figured it out by now, they were criminally unobservant.

> _He drops by and visits everyone when he's here, that doesn't mean anything at all. **I** heard it was Cassandra, he agreed to become a Templar for her._

Naked together on the bed, at first enjoying just the warmth of his Inquisitor against him, and then the man had started move downwards- and while he certainly hoped the other man never got tired of sucking his cock- well, today he didn't quite feel like just lying there and taking it, as it were...

> _Of course he always takes the Tevinter with him- “keep your enemies closer”- he knows better than to trust a Magister from the Imperium._

He'd been surprised when Dorian moved, stopping him and even pinning him, but the mage had chuckled “Oh do continue, please,” after a kiss and then he'd squirmed around and Lyos found himself still on his back, but his lover's thighs were straddling his head teasingly even as strong, smooth hands were taking  _him_ by the hips-

> _I think that he does more than just play chess with Ser Rutherford._

Dorian arched as Lyos finally realized what the game was, obeying the hands that helped get him into a better position, even as he buried own his face between the elf's thighs and began to nuzzle and tease with a hungry tongue- he gasped when the favor was returned, “Mmm.. so does the first to come lose, or win?”

> _Wait, which one? The Inquisitor, or the Tevinter?_

This was... a first for him, something he hadn't really ever thought of, but it certainly promised to be good- then that challenging tease came from Dorian, and it was enough to make him growl. His lover knew him too damn well.

> _Maybe even both, just think about the debauchery the mage must be used to, and the Dalish don't, you know, have the same kind of morals when it comes to things like that. Not even a true Templar would have a chance between them-_

Still locked together, each trying to get the better angle, and now easier for both of them to use their hands as well, the mage had a hard time concentrating enough for the minor spell that made sure fingers slid easily along flesh- he'd known his Amatus wouldn't be able to resist anything that sounded like a dare- not that either of them would be losing, regardless of outcome.

> _That sounds like wishful thinking to me- you're making that one up as you go, you pervert._

Fingers along bases, stroking each others balls, Lyos pinched at Dorian's ass and was rewarded with a yelp, although that was also punishment, since any time he was making sounds like that, the mage wasn't putting his mouth to such excellent use.

> _Shhhh, here comes Mother Giselle, she'll give a lecture about spreading gossip._

Hips rocking, thrusting into each other lightly in full rut, with mouths full and tongues lashing, groaning, clutching, writhing- the both of them, each trying to get the other to come first-

> _Well even Andraste herself had a husband, there's no reason Her Herald would have to take vows, is there? I haven't heard that he did._

Lyos gasped for air and came up enough to give his lover warning, and the mental image of Dorian with sticky lips and fingers, his eyes hot with need and probably also that wicked, wicked smirk on his lips- if he hadn't just come, he felt he would have to just that image alone, even if in a cold bath rather than a soft, rumpled bed smelling of sex and sweat.

> _It's still shameful to talk about the Inquisitor like that- maybe even blasphemous!_

Dorian groaned and bucked his hips in urgently, and tightened his grip- urging his Amatus to get back to it- he was so close himself, licking his lips and kissing urgently along the elf's thighs-

> _But power is such an aphrodisiac, power of all kinds- and the taboo of it, just think, my dear, a Tevinter Magister and a free Dalish elf? Do you think the Imperium or the elven clan would burst into the hotter flames?_

The Herald obeyed the silently given orders, not bothering to be teasing, just using everything he had learned about Dorian's body to bring his love to a conclusion-

> _Oh well if you wish to play with taboo- what about the Tevinter and the Qunari? That seems far more potent, to my mind._

The spurt of cum along his own lips, jaw, and neck, a frantic need to twist and squirm, one apparently shared by Dorian as they moved to meet face to face again, pulling each other close and kissing, sated, breathless, and infatuated.

> _Spreading such rumors, have you nothing better to do than wag your tongues about? Get back to your tasks!_


	6. Epistle Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime through this and possibly a bit into "Private Readings", Halward Pavus and Mother Giselle have a very brief correspondence.

 Your Reverence,

I wish to thank you for your efforts, and apologize that I was less than honest with you regarding the meeting, but as has sadly been proven, such obfuscation was the only way I had to see Dorian again for even a few moments. That the Inquisitor himself seems to consider my son a close ally is in a way reassuring, though it also makes it painfully obvious that my boy will not be rethinking his dangerous path in the south any time soon.

While I sorrow that my admitted deceits caused your Inquisitor to judge me so poorly that he encouraged a sharp end to the meeting, I find myself only able to hope that both he and Dorian fully understand his position there, so far from home. I know many will treat him, and any friendship with your Inquisitor with great suspicion.

He claims he wishes to aid the Inquisition, that he feels what is being done there is the right thing to do- so I can only pray that his distaste for myself does not push him to further rash decisions or blind him to how precarious his position may be. I humbly beg that you continue to watch over him as best your time and commitments allow, and that in time he may be willing to again reconcile and return to his home- if not to House Pavus, then to some of those here that he has held in greater friendship and regard than his own family.

Your servant,

Magister Halward Pavus

 

**********

 

Magister Halward Pavus,

It was, and remains, my duty as a servant of the Maker and compassionate Andraste to pray that your family may find reconciliation. I understand the fears that led you to use deceit, but I must confirm that you are correct in thinking it has hardened the hearts of both your son, and the Inquisitor against you for the time being. Perhaps in time, they will be more amenable to council of forgiveness, and I will also find a time to remind Dorian that he has more who care about him in Tevinter as well.

It is true that their friendship causes whispers here, though none dire enough that it warrants their concern as of yet, but I am certain that both will become more sensible about their alliance as time makes anger fade.

Yours in Faith,

Mother Giselle

 

**_*The seal on the letter seems to have been tampered with before sending, and scribbled in a margin is the added note in scratchy handwriting:*_ **

 

piss old man! close allies yeah?   magic mustache is so not leaving

dunno bout HEARTS hardening but they're at it like knives

 _like knives with a knife ear_ ha!       bet that gets some breeches

i need to remember that for later yeah? _knives_

 

*** _signed with a rough doodle of two squirting cocks and an S_ * **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellp, that ended the concerned letter campaign from Halward for a while!
> 
> That's also the end for this particular installment, "Private Readings" is kinda next for personal stuff between the two.


End file.
